Dead World
by darkest magic
Summary: Shortly after Harry's last year some strange things start happening. First everyone thought it was a joke, but soon realized one cruel hard fact... Zombies are real.


Dead World

Summary: Shortly after Harry's last year some strange things start happening. First everyone thought it was a joke, but soon realized one cruel hard fact... Zombies are real.

Warning: This story is rated M fore gore and foul language. It takes place during RE extinction, and after HP Book 7. I have been reading fanfiction since 1997 and have decided to try my hand at several stories. Currently they revolve around zombies, but that may change later. Hope you like this new story. Please read and review. Remember fanfiction is all for the fun of writing, and playing in someone else's sandbox.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Resident Evil, or any undead zombie franchise. This is a work of fanfiction and as such is purely for entertainment purposes only.

Dead World

Chronicle One: The Escape

It was funny how everyone in my world assumed that their biggest problem was Voldemort. I took care of him, and everything was fine for a while, then weird things started happening across the pond. It never even entered our minds that there was an even fouler evil lurking out there. One not even capable of magic, one created by muggles and their propensity to try to make better scarier more devastating diseases. Well they succeeded, and now the world is screwed.

The world we once knew is no more.

In 1996 a Virus produced in America was set loose, it started with The Hive – an Umbrella Corporation laboratory set deep underground to avoid detection or question – Then in 1997 it was Racoon City, nuked to prevent the further spread of the infection without checking to see if it was communicable via water or animal life. No one checked to see if any of the animals that managed to escape the blockades were infected. If people and animals could escape before the nuke, so could the Undead.

Yes. The Undead, because that's what this Virus does. It reanimates dead cells, injects new life into the dearly departed and leaves them with only their base instincts.

The need to feed.

First America fell, not with a bang, but with a whimper,then Japan, then slowly the rest of the globe. Now the world is dead, not just the people, but the planet. The virus mutated until all life was affected.

There are few of us left now; our numbers keep dwindling, while theirs keep growing. We learned early on that while they may want our flesh, they have no real need for it; we keep moving, never staying in one place because if we do... they'll follow and like insects, they will swarm us until there is nothing left.

While everything around us dies, the few of us that are left are trying to find a cure, or kill the fuckers responsible for all this death. One thing for sure Death is happy. Being his master certainly has advantages. One, i can't become infected. Two, I can't die, oh I can be killed...but, i will just come back whole with more scars. Three, most undead will leave me alone, however there are some that will always attack me, like the magical creatures, the mutations, and of course the vampires. We are not living, but surviving in this living nightmare, this Dead World.

Cat-like green eyes leered through the cross-hares, sniper rifle held tight against his shoulder eyes lined down the barrel through the scope. "Sorry about this Blaise." He muttered, mentally pasting the face of the black haired Slytherin onto the dried out decayed features of the little boy that stood listlessly in front of a motel gas-station, his once white dress shirt and grey pants now dirt and bloodstained as he swayed on the spot with lifeless eyes.

He squeezed the trigger and he dropped like a rock, a splatter of black and red blood decorating the sand behind his head. Carefully scanning the terrain, Green eyes and Sniper-rifle took out five more of the Walking dead before a slight rustling behind him brought the young man to his senses and rolling to the side, 9mm Beretta wrenched out of his thigh-holster and discharging three somewhat panicked shots into the shuffling corpse that had been behind him intent of chewing on his tasty body.

Watching as the once black robed witch dropped to the ground with a sad mocking rattle of life, the 21-almost-22-year-old collapsed back on the sand with a pent up sigh of relief. Clearing out gas-stations and similar areas was always a nightmare, you never knew who or what you would find in the surrounding area, he shivered remembering the time he had played Virus Tag with what he called a Human Blast-End-Skewert. That creature certainly looked like one but skinless, and... Skull-less, leaving its brain free for anything to get into the crevasses, and that tongue too, that thing would have really hurt if it had hit.

He'd seen the slices it had made to the furniture and walls while dodging through the motel. The mutations the virus caused were getting worse with each passing month. You never knew what you would find anymore. Like the time he went to Hogwarts to get the basilisk hide to make armor, the mutated centaurs that had tentacles instead of arms. A shiver ran down his spine just remembering the close call he had with those things. Not only did they have more arms to grab him with, but they were damn fast with horses legs.

Deciding that now would be a good time to get up and finish securing the place before something else came along and tried to take a bite out of him, the man formally known as Harry Potter – now as Black – rolled to the side and got up, grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he gave the corpse at his feet a spiteful kick as he passed.

He held nothing but ill-will to the corpses that hunted him, the souls had already departed and while they may hold him some ill-will for mistreating their bodies, he intended to get their revenge for them by stringing up the bastards who caused this monumental fuck-up and feeding them to a pack of severely pissed of Inferi-kneezles. That would be interesting. Until he set Norberta on the whole lot. speaking of Norberta..."I wonder where she is hiding, usually i can see her shadow as she follows me making sure I don't get attacked by other dragons or undead flying creatures. Maybe she is looking for food." he thought.

Smirking vindictively to himself the black haired male sling his rifle onto the crotch-rocket motorbike he'd boosted from one of the cities during his practically suicidal jaunts to fetch food and gas when he couldn't find any in the Out of Town spots. At first he had no idea how to drive and did everything via trial and error, which was how he got the majority of the scars that were half healed littering his body, falling off in the desert at high speed was like getting dragged over dragon-scales the wrong way. Painful and unpleasant.

He still had his Firebolt but avoided flying, since Dragons were one of the few creatures immune to the Virus, they now ruled the planet and snatched up every thing that flew, the Wyverns weren't so lucky and were infected as were the nundus much to his horror when he came across one feeding upon a felled Dragon. There was very little wildlife that was immune and the list could be counted on both his hands. Along with Dragons, there were the lethifolds, dementors, werewolves, basilisks, phoenix, runespoors, and grims. The only ones he was comfortable with with the phoenix, grims, runespoors and grims. At least they didn't try to kill him. But that was life, and you had to deal with it.

Wheeling the bike into the Motel gas-station the black haired male kicked the stand down and began to pile up the bodies, pausing only briefly to close the eyes of the little boy as he placed him with the others. Harry sighed adjusting the basilisk arm-guards on his hands, the things had saved him from bites before so he wasn't about to take them off any time soon, before he pulled his gun. The green-eyed male so very rarely got to sleep in a bed, usually it was the small wizard tent he had to sleep on out in the open. He didn't even use much Magic anymore, his whole being was in survival mode and his magic was helping him stay alive when food was scarce. Oh, he still had magic. In fact his shrunken trunk had all the books from his vaults and Hogwarts, along with everything from Snape's private stores and the infirmary. What food he managed to get from the kitchens after killing off all the zombied elves was in there too, but he rarely had a safe place to cook and relax. If he stayed in one place too long, the undead would always find him. It was like the mutations could zero in on him, and bring the others.

Investigating the Motel was his first order of action; clear the rooms of Undead should they be there, secure a safe room to sleep and store his bike and then clear the Gas-station, get petrol, food and water and anything else that could be of use... clean clothes if they're going, Harry had already rendered his school robes unrecognizable over the last few years. The short male worked quickly and efficiently, checking every room, making sure the reception and lobby was clear before going down the corridor and making sure every door was closed, the ones that were open were checked first, the doors then left open before he went back to the lobby and began opening the doors methodically. When he was done three more corpses joined the six outside and all the doors save for one – the one he had chosen to sleep in for the night – were closed and locked. Thankfully, the gas station was empty save for a small pile of decomposed bones in one of the closets; someone had cut their throat and bled to death if the ominous black seeping stain on the floor was any indication.

Harry sighed tiredly and gathered up the bones to be placed with the others and to be burned before he left, he didn't want the scent of smoke and cooking meat to attract anything while he was still there. Once again sequestered in his room, the black haired male collapsed back on the moth-eaten bed and just lay there, shivering every once in a while and just hoping that nothing would be able to get in. Normal Inferi – created via magical means – and those Vampires who had ingested the T-virus, basically anything magical and undead, were unable to enter this room due to the blood wards he had smeared on the back of his door and the window sill. But it wouldn't stop those undead powered solely via the T-virus, so essentially, the only thing between him and death was a locked door. It seemed to happen far more than he would have liked, but again, that's just life. Harry sighed and rolled over, his knife held firmly in his hand even as he felt his gun press against his leg from where he had holstered it, dragging a sheet to fold over him as he closed his eyes, attempting to go to sleep even as his mind whirled with memories he had best left forgotten.


End file.
